A Day in the Horrible Life of Marvin
by Krin
Summary: [Discontinued] Ever wonder about the people whose zoomers are stolen by Jak? Jak2 fic
1. Snuggles

**Lovepuff and I have often wondered how the slummers felt when Jak stole their zoomers from them to go raging off on some ridiculous side-quest. This wondering eventually turned into a running gag, in which a certain slummer was subject to a series of horrible events that culminates-  
Well, I won't give it away, but here it is. A day in the horrible life of Marvin, a Tax Archives specialist who has the worst luck in the history of Haven.  
I've been reading a lot of sci fi/fantasy comedy written by British people, so that's why this story has the tone it does.  
Enjoy!**  
  
Marvin woke from suffocating dreams to find that Snuggles, his wife's indisputably evil cat, had sunk her claws into his ears again while he had slept. Not only that, but Snuggles had managed to fill nearly every orifice in his head with sopping hair balls, which, Marvin reflected in the two seconds before his first scream of the morning, was probably what had woken him up.  
  
AHH KKKHANNT BRREEETHH!  
  
Marvin clawed at his throat while Snuggles hissed and scratched. His wife, Marley, rose like a decaying mummy in its crypt from her tattered blanket and socked him in the stomach for waking her up. Marvin flew backwards off the bed and, still attempting to remove the cat from his leg, knocked over and fell onto Marley's prize cactus collection.  
  
Clearly, this was going to be a bad day.  
  
After dislodging the offending ball of fur and saliva from his trachea, and pulling the Sharpest and Most Devious Looking Award Winning Cactus Spines from his tush, Marvin reached for his work shirt- to find that Snuggles had used it as a toilet the previous evening. He groaned and looked through his closet, still picking bits of cat fur out of his ears. The closet was empty. Of course; today was laundry day. That meant today Marley would look at the dirty clothes spread throughout the room, tomorrow she'd put them in a pile, and the next day she would wash them.  
  
There must be something, muttered Marvin, pushing empty hangers down the rack. He smiled with relief as he felt a garment hanging in the darkest corner. Hoping to Mar it was a shirt, he pulled the hanger out and gasped.  
  
It was a shirt, all right. Marvin's eyes did somersaults in their sockets as he attempted to look away from the thing. It was a pink button down shirt with pink ruffles, a starched pink collar, a pink pocket (with matching pink pocket protector sewn in) and cute, little pink tulip buttons. Marvin's jaw dropped. He turned the hanger around and saw that the back of the shirt was, for some reason, striped in thirty three shades of pink with one inexplicable blue dot in the center.  
  
he said weakly. He felt slightly nauseous and held the shirt up for her to see. What _is_ this?  
  
Work shirt, she grunted.  
  
Ah. Darling, I can't wear this.  
  
Was half off.  
  
I can't wear pink. Do we have anything else?  
  
No. Shirt on sale. Wear it, Marley belched, turned over, and buried her face in the pillow.  
  
Marvin groaned internally and searched the floor. Perhaps there was a dirty shirt that wasn't _too_ dirty...  
  
One minute later he emerged from his bedroom (Marley having yelled at him that the shirt was too loud, that's why she had buried it in the darkest corner of the closet for him, and it was making her hangover worse, so would he just go away) and smelled smoke.  
  
  
  
Lavi peeked around the corner, huge black clouds billowing out from the kitchen behind her.  
  
Daddy? I made you muffins but the muffins caught fire so I put newspaper on them but the newspaper caught fire so I put oil on them but the oil caught fire so I put water on them but it just floated the burning oil all around the kitchen floor and so Diggy wet his pants and we're both late for school.  
  
Marvin's eyes popped.  
  
Oh, and Snuggles smells. Your shirt is funny. Lavi squinted at him.  
  
Get out of the kitchen! Marvin felt the overwhelming urge to beat his forehead with his fists, but the pink sleeves were too tight and he couldn't raise his arms much higher than elbow height.  
  
Lavi shrugged and skipped down the hallway, dragging her baby brother behind her. Diggy looked up at his father and laughed.  
  
Marvin noted his son's yellowed pants on his scream down the hall.   
  
Lavi continued to skip down to her bedroom, where she locked Diggy in the closet, opened her bag of secret make-up smuggled from her parent's room, and put lipstick all over her face.  
  
Marvin slammed the kitchen door shut, crossed a tiny sea of flaming oil, and opened a window. He fanned his face desperately and found the fire extinguisher. The needle dipped in the red zone. Roaring with frustration, he threw the extinguisher to the floor, whereupon a rather unpleasant smell of burning muffins, followed by a rather harrowing explosion, rocked the house.  
  
SHUT UP! screamed Marley.  
  
screamed Lavi.  
  
And Diggy screamed something which Marvin was pretty sure was coming from behind a locked closet door.  
  
The swirling flaming cooking oil decided to make itself scarce, not wanting to remain in that house any longer than absolutely necessary. It followed the swift air current out the window and never looked back, instead turning its fiery gaze to the neighboring houses. Satisfying screams ensued there.  
  
Panting, Marvin turned and saw Snuggles watching him from the doorway, a look of supreme arrogance on his whiskered face. _You know if you clean up this mess, I'll just make a worse one before you get back home, and Marley's going to kill you for ruining her cacti. Plus, you look ridiculous,_ he seemed to say.  
  
Fonk off, muttered Marvin.  
  
The cat replied with a wiggling of its scrawny butt and a hiss. Then, suddenly interested in a far more intelligent-seeming insect down the hall, turned and sauntered away.  
  
Marvin groaned aloud, looked around the ruined kitchen in despair, saw the clock covered in shreds of newspaper, and groaned again. Gonna be late! He grabbed his briefcase from the foyer before its new brown color registered and slammed the door.  
  
Damn that cat.  
  
Marvin wiped the briefcase on the dusty streets and decided that anything was better than facing his dear family again. Trying to avoid the avid stares from the slummers around him, he jumped onto his wife's rusted zoomer and sped down the street.  
  
Or, at least he would have, if the thing had started. Laughing nervously and trying to explain the cute pink tulip buttons with a series of shrugs, he tapped at the front of the zoomer. The back propellers groaned. Marvin grit his teeth and slammed his fists down onto the steering mechanism. One of the propellors fell off indignantly, but the other managed to right itself and send the machine flying.  
  
Into the wall.  
  
Marvin groaned and peeled himself off the vertical concrete. Wiping blood and cat hair from his face, he pulled his comm out of the briefcase and calmly made two calls.  
  
The first was to the manager, telling him that he would be late. The manager laughed and, thinking that Marvin wasn't too important to the Baron's Official Tax, Accounting, Finance and Entertainment Archives, reminded him once more of his most probable job termination in approximately two days.  
  
The second call was to the local Rent-A-Zoomer, where a harried but polite young man told him that a state of the art zoomer would be there soon, so sorry we're out of the cheap ones at the moment.  
  
Marvin sat on the smoking remains of his wife's zoomer, crossed his legs, and waited.  
  
Two minutes later, a stampede of slummers raced down the road screaming. They were followed by a throng of Krimzon Guards desperately trying to shoot at a terrible monster, whose white skin, black eyes, and crackling field of dark eco would fill any normal person with paralyzing fear.  
  
But Marvin had seen the monster the previous day, right after he had landed belly down on the cracked street and right before his zoomer had been wrenched out from under him. So instead of being filled with fear, he was filled with rage.  
  
You bloody _vackting_ monster! he bellowed, shaking his fist in its general direction. You stole my Beauty and crashed her into the Hip Hog! It's your fault I had to ride Craptasticon, and-  
  
The monster responded by leaping into the air, spinning ferociously, emitting a vast and menacing web of dark eco, and annihilating any person or thing within a metrastandard of its body.  
  
Carry on, then, said Marvin weakly.  
  
The monster, giving no sign that it had heard Marvin's complaint or that it gave an ottsel's ass about it, ran on.  
  
Two minutes later, a woman on the most gorgeous zoomer Marvin had ever seen rode up and stopped above him. The zoomer quietly floated to the ground, murmured pleasantly, and turned itself off.  
  
Mr. Marvin? asked the woman, batting her Made-in-Perpetua eyelashes.  
  
Marvin was shocked that any woman, let alone one with _this_ many eco barrels in the bank, would speak to him.  
  
You called Rent-A-Zoomer?  
  
Ah... yeah.  
  
Here you are. This is an Exuberance Zoomer XXA, Manifest Destiny Class Twenty. You have leased it for two days?  
  
  
  
Please sign here and here. You will be paying the renting fees as bimonthly installments of 120 Precursor Orbs for the next five months. Do you understand the payment plan?  
  
I can't afford that!  
  
Sign here, please. Any damage incurred to this vehicle will result in the dissolution of your worldly possessions, and possibly, your Precursian soul. She smiled a bright white imported-from-Sickle smile and offered him a pen.  
  
  
  
Hold it like this, she said patiently, placing the pen in his hand, and sign your name.  
  
But I can't afford 120 Pre-  
  
The woman frowned ever so slightly and forced Marvin's hand across the dotted line. He tried to resist and sent ink all across the paper. MaRlump? Oh well, close enough. I will return to take Destiny back in two days time. Any scratch on her, the woman's eyes flashed with imported pupils of the finest quality, and I'll cause you such bodily pain that you will wish you were never born. Enjoy your vehicle and thank you for choosing Rent-A-Zoomer!  
  
Before Marvin could reply, she strode off and ducked into a bar.   
  
**Please review! :)**


	2. Destiny

**Thanks to:  
SnowyFox: Yep, was in _Studying the Unloved_. Good eye! When will you send me the next chapters of Precious Memories???? and thanks for the review! :D  
Krimzon 1: Your review made me and Lovepuff laugh out loud. Thanks! Poor guy... I don't think his luck will change, hehe.  
Okay... enjoy! Also, there's a reason I'm loading this story before continuing _The Trophy_.... bwahaha.**  
  
he said. Marvin jumped onto the expensive zoomer and pulled it out of the hover zone. It rose gracefully, emitting soft purple clouds of perfumed exhaust, and turned its dashboard lights on.  
  
Hello, Mr. Marvin, it cooed.  
  
Uh. Hello? Marvin had been enjoying the padded, heated seat and fully insect-repelling windshield, but was unprepared for a zoomer that spoke.  
  
Your destination, please?  
  
Mar Memorial Stadium.  
  
Yes sir. There was a pause. That's an interesting shirt, Mr. Marvin.  
  
Thank you, spat Marvin. Do you have to talk to drive?  
  
No, sir.  
  
Then shut up.  
  
Destiny blinked its lights in affirmative and glided along. Marvin leaned back slightly and enjoyed the ride. The city flew by below, and more than a few slummers looked up in jealousy at him. Destiny took turns expertly and never got within a centistandard of the walls, KGs, KGs in zoomers, slummers, slummers in zoomers, or randomly parked zoomers, or anything else that would cause any sort of damage which would result in the wrenching of Marvin's skeleton from his body by the Rent-A-Zoomer people.  
  
Destiny played some relaxing music and assured him, with flashy dials and engine read ups, that everything was going smoothly. Marvin gratefully dozed off and dreamed of the joys of Snuggles and taxidermy. A half hour later he was woken by a gently strobing light and a slight cooling of the zoomer seat. he muttered.  
  
Destiny blinked urgently.  
  
What? Oh. Talk!  
  
We've arrived, sir.  
  
Great. Um, thanks. Marvin walked down the set of vanity stairs that extended from his seat to the ground. Go park yourself where no one will find you, he said.  
  
With pleasure, sir, said Destiny, and quietly hummed to the lower parking levels of the Stadium.  
  
Marvin swung his briefcase by the frayed handles and walked up the marble steps. He passed by the Mechanic's and was stopped by a scratchy voice.  
  
  
  
Er, yes, hello, he replied.  
  
Keira smiled. You look kind of... rough... this morning.  
  
  
  
Keira looked like she wanted to say something comforting, but she was too busy trying stop her stomach from forcefully ejecting its contents in an upwards direction. So instead she waved, clapped a hand over her mouth, and ran behind the curtain.  
  
Marvin sighed and took a right. Keira was usually very nice to him, the only one in the whole city, he guessed, so the shirt must be even worse than he'd thought. He felt faintly lucky that, by wearing it, he didn't have to actually _look_ at it.   
  
As usual, his password didn't register with the door. He waited and waited for the retired KG to lumber up from the archives, confirm that his pathetic ID card, complete with a picture of Marvin with his mouth open in a way that made him look especially moronic, was truly his pathetic ID card, and let him in.  
  
Thanks, Slappy, muttered Marvin.  
  
Slappy sent him a death look, augmented with pink eye in one eye and a white cataract film over the other. Both eyes seemed offended by the shirt.  
  
You look well, said Marvin.  
  
Slappy's meaty hands curled into angry fists. His pink eye twitched.  
  
Have a nice day, said Marvin.  
  
SUSPECT ENTERING SECTOR SIX! BE ADVISED, I'M ON FOOT! Slappy screamed. Marvin clapped his hands over his ears and ran for his office. The ex KG thundered after him, screaming more frightfully unclever KG quips.  
  
Marvin kicked his office door open, whipped around, shut it, and locked the deadbolt, the ball and chain bolt, the hammer-attached-to-the-chicken bolt, and the doorknob. Slappy slammed into the door, howling, STAND YOUR GROUND!  
  
Heaving a sigh of relief, and hoping that Gloria down the hall would soon come and distract Slappy with old war movies in the lounge, Marvin sat back in his chair. It used to be a gray swivel chair, but now had faded to a bilious grayish green. Unbeknownst to Marvin, the swivel mechanism had been rusting, layer by layer, over thirty years, and was just about to give way.  
  
screamed Marvin as his chair gave way. He heaved himself up and glared at the grayish green remains. Stupid chair!  
  
It glinted at him in a rather snotty, rusty way and collapsed further into itself. Marvin kicked the pieces into the corner, rubbed his foot, and kneeled down in front of his desk. He opened his briefcase, took out his file, and tried to concentrate.  
  
WE NEED BACKUP!  
  
Shut up, Slappy!  
  
  
  
Marvin cradled his head in his hands until he heard Gloria's loud voice, come along, Slappy, you old powder puff. There's a snazzy remake vid of Mar's Last Stand in the lounge.  
  
I was in that battle!  
  
Yes, yes, I know...  
  
Slappy and Gloria stomped away, the ball and chain lock fell off the door, and Marvin got a paper cut from the file he held. His upper right eyelid twitched, just once. Marvin took a deep breath, sucked his finger, and looked over the papers.  
  
_9.084.203485.583/BH  
You need level Weasel Goat Clearance to view these papers.  
Top Secret Tax Evasion and Loophole Strategies for the Baron.  
Whereupon the slummers' 187K tax withholdings have been filed, the Baron is initially entitled to 25% of the non-refundable proceeds. If there happens to be a full moon on the day of tax collection, the day after tax collection, the day before tax collection, or any series of days at any point in a year where tax collection is taking place, then the Baron is entitled to 55% of both the refundable and non-refundable proceeds._  
  
The Loophole Strategy continued on for a while. Marvin straightened his shoulders and underlined things of particular interest, in other words, nothing.   
  
Half an hour later, the manager knocked on the door. Marvin undid all the locks and cracked it open a millistandard. he whispered.  
  
What's going on in there? demanded the manager. He looked at Marvin suspiciously. Slappy's screaming about rebellion in the lounge.  
  
Slappy always screams about rebellion in the lounge.  
  
Yes, but today he's doing it with excess zeal. The manager turned one beady eye on Marvin. What did you do?  
  
Nothing, sir.  
  
You were late this morning, Marvin. Let me in, the manager stuck his foot into the door and wedged it open. His mouth opened in shock. You've destroyed company property! he said, pointing to the chair. He turned to reprimand Marvin and his managerial glare twisted into itself. What in bloody Metal Head blazes are you wearing?!  
  
Nothing, sir. Well, not nothing. Worse than nothing, Marvin's hands shook. It's a work shirt, sir, that my wife got for half price, and-  
  
Do you think this is a Sicklian Scamper Circus?? No wonder Slappy's smashing the lounge apart! Pink is the number one Irritation Instigation Color on the ex KG list! We have a strict dress code, Marvin!  
  
Yes, sir, I know, but-  
  
But whumpbees! The manager huffed himself up to an authoritative degree. I've been waiting for an opportunity to fire you, but now you've given me a better idea! You have been officially demoted!  
  
But sir!  
  
I'm switching your department of expertise to the Entertainment Archives!  
  
Marvin stepped back, shocked.  
  
Get your crap out of this office! You will report to your new post promptly within the hour! If I hear from the EA manager that you were late, I will terminate you from the Baron's Official Tax, Accounting, Finance and Entertainment Archives altogether!  
  
Marvin's knees bent unexpectedly, and he fell face first to the floor. The manager laughed heartily, looked at the back of the shirt, gazed at the one inexplicable blue dot in the center thoughtfully, and left.  
  
A low moan escaped Marvin's lips. He studied the knotted wooden floor for a second or two, then pulled himself up. _Demoted,_ he thought. He looked around blearily at the walls, gazing at the posters of Tax Evasion Strategies and Loophole Physics. _Entertainment Archives,_ he thought. His brain could barely register the horror.  
  
The Entertainment Archives made the Tax Archives look like an intercontinental adventure in which the handsome hero has an exciting quest, a comedic side-kick, a beautiful girlfriend, dozens of damaging weapons, a million foes, a mysterious past and a far more mysterious future.  
  
The Tax Archives made the Entertainment Archives look so dreadfully boring that there have only been two employees in the entire history of the department who hadn't committed suicide from the boredom.   
  
The Entertainment Archives made Marvin wish that the Craptasticon had taken him with it in its fiery, propeller shattering end.  
  
The only upside Marvin could see, which was rather difficult as he had to pull cat fur and a cute pink tulip button from his eye to see it, was that the Entertainment Archives paid their morbidly depressed employees rather well.  
  
Perhaps, Marvin thought, he would be able to pay for renting Destiny. If he didn't die from the dust leaden, heart trembling, bowel unleashing, blood pressure dropping boredom of it all.  
  
Perhaps he'd be able to move out of his house, away from his darling family, out of the slums, away from his darling family, out of Haven, far, far away from his darling family, and spend his free time tuning up Destiny.  
  
Perhaps.  
  
But, knowing how his luck ran, and that it usually ran with the Bad sort, Marvin didn't think so.  
  
Feeling extremely dejected, Marvin pushed himself off the floor, gathered his things, and exited his office.  
  
**Mwahaha... his life just keeps getting worse, don't it? Please review! Especially if any of this made you laugh. You _must!_ Thank youuu. :)**


	3. The Two Who Didn't Commit Suicide

**Thanks to the following linklies!:  
Snowy Fox (inspired by The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy), Krimzon 1 (shh!!), Monkeypants (heheh... pants), dOMITUPSYK (ahhh! My butt's on fire!!), and YunieYuna (if you didn't, I would be forced to plow you a field of good luck clovers).  
Yes, I am posting this thing kinda fast, but once this chapter is up, I'll wait a bit. (Because after this ch you'll see why I had to put this up before the next ch of a different story! Namely, The Trophy.)  
Imkayyy... yes. Prepare your brainmeats for more OC's. But don't worry, they're fun. Enjoy! **  
  
Yes, Slappy. I _know_ they didn't get your hair right, but he's just an actor. Why don't you sit down and stop waving that gun at the screen...  
  
Marvin tip-toed past the lounge. Gloria was wrestling a rusty Peace Maker from the ex KG. That's it, sweetheart, she said between her teeth, she wedged one foot between Slappy's elbow and the gun, she stuck her other foot up on his shoulder, she wrapped both arms around the Peace Maker, and pulled for all she was worth,   
  
ENEMY DOWN!  
  
Gloria and the Peace Maker flew across the room and smashed into a bookshelf. Gloria groaned and pushed her hair out of her face- and wished she hadn't. Slappy, blind with rage, pink eye, and cataracts, barreled towards her at top speed. She screamed.  
  
Marvin quietly tip-toed on.  
  
He also quietly tip-toed past a pack of interns bashing a vending machine, a growling KG waving a curved dagger at the throat of a flustered Lurker, a stray cat who looked too much like Snuggles for comfort, the manager, a couple of vending machines that had already been smashed open, and the elevator.  
  
Marvin looked wistfully at the elevator, but knew instinctively that it wouldn't go down where he needed it to. Despite being cleaned, greased, inspected, and threatened numerous times, it refused to descend to the lower levels. Marvin shuddered and pushed the ancient door across the hall open. It creaked and revealed a set of stairs leading down into darkness.  
  
Um, hello? he held his briefcase in front of his body protectively. He took a tentative step forward and felt around for a light switch. Is anyone there? I'm new in this department...  
  
A disturbing cackle sounded from the blackness. It kicked up a notch into maniacal laughter, then, in a sputter of tears and coughing, cleared its throat and spoke. New guy?  
  
Marvin strained his eyes, trying to see where the words had come from.  
  
Come down! It's an utter riot! Utter, not udder; important to note the difference. Yakkows aren't allowed down here. The voice, most probably belonging to a female, paused. This is the best one I've found yet. I have to show it to ya- you'll love it.  
  
The voice said this in anything but the exact tone that would convince Marvin to take another step.  
  
Aww... c'mon! It's hilarious, I swear, and then we'll get back to work. You'll have to finish what What's-his-name was doing.  
  
Is there a light? asked Marvin faintly.  
  
Hmm. Thought I'd forgotten something.  
  
Marvin shielded his eyes with his briefcase as a bright beam of white cut up the staircase. The silhouetted figure at the bottom waved one arm impatiently. Marvin blindly reached out a hand, grasped the splintered banister, and stepped down carefully.  
  
Four and a half splinters later, he reached the bottom. Still holding the briefcase over his face, he said, would you mind?  
  
His new companion giggled menacingly and lowered the light. Let's have a look- hmm! You're a lot younger than the other guys.  
  
Other guys? Marvin blinked rapidly.  
  
Yeah, hee hee. There's been a ton recently; can't remember their names. They come and they go so quickly. The figure sighed, snorted with glee, and held out a hand, what's yours?  
  
  
  
Hello, Marvin, the figure took his hand and shook it fiercely. The last fuzzy spots in Marvin's eyes dissolved. They call me Cracky.  
  
Cracky had the biggest grin Marvin had ever seen. Each white tooth had at least three white neighbors who steadfastly refused to point in the same direction.  
  
Well, they'd call me Cracky if they were still around.  
  
She was a few years younger than Marvin, but this is where any sentence comparing and would terminate itself. Repeatedly.  
  
It's just me and the ancient platypus.  
  
Cracky's purple pigtails stuck up in giant bushes around her ears.  
  
But I tell everyone who comes to call me Cracky.  
  
Her ears were pierced with fishhooks, metal sporks of assorted size, a miniature cheese grater, and pencil nubs. Strands of tiny colored lights were wrapped around and between them.  
  
I can't remember my real name. I don't think I had one.  
  
The dress she wore defied description and thankfully most of it was invisible beneath the glare of her light.  
  
I love your shirt!  
  
Cracky definitely was standing way too close for comfort.  
  
There's cat fur in your eyebrows.  
  
Marvin gaped. He felt his IQ take a running start, pause for a moment as if reconsidering, and then plunge into the depths of single digits.  
  
Well, c'mon, we don't have much longer til Siesta Time. Cracky grabbed his hand and yanked him down the hall, which smelled, felt, and was entirely damp. We get a Siesta Time every day. Like a lunch break. One hour.  
  
Um, Cracky, I- Marvin tried to pull his hand from her iron grip.  
  
Shh. I have to read you this. It's gigantically hilarious. Cracky held up a piece of paper, coughed dramatically, and read. _To my dearest family_, she giggled, _I can't take it down here anymore. The pay is great, but every day I write tables and fill charts, and they get returned. I ask my superiors,_ Cracky snorted, _what's wrong with them, but they don't say. I just have to keep writing and writing and writing the same damn numbers. If I calculate the exact range of Klager the Great's Metal Head Throwing Championship throw one more time... well, it's too late for that, I'm already about to do it._ Cracky composed herself and read on. _I long to see the clouds of pollution. I long to hear the Baron's public radio announcements about how we're all doomed. Hell, I long for the Krimzon Guard beatings- I can't take it any longer._ Cracky tilted back her head and cackled. This is the best part! _I love you. I'm so-so-sorr-_ Cracky couldn't stop laughing. She wiped tears from her eyes with her sleeve. _Sorry it has to be like this!_   
  
Marvin paled noticeably, though Cracky didn't notice.  
  
_Goodbye!_ Bwaaaaaaahahahahahahaa!! Cracky pulled Marvin down to the floor in her fit of laughter. She beat the stones with her fists. Marvin wrenched his body away. Help me up, tee hee.  
  
Marvin just stared, aghast.  
  
Wasn't that superb? It was a long one, too. Usually they just say how they hate it here more than the nth degree of Perpetual Standard Deviation Best Scores Distribution and get on with it. Cracky failed to notice Marvin's lack of an offered hand, grabbed at the air, and stood. I have a collection, you know. She tucked the suicide note into her pocket and dimmed the light. Turning to him with glittering eyes, she said, I can't wait to read yours!  
  
Five minutes and two strands-of-colored-light-tanglings-in-underground-roots later, Cracky and Marvin came to a door. We used to have secret passwords and stuff, said Cracky, but no one comes down here, so it's not necessary. Hee. She scratched at one ear, dislodging a spork but taking no notice, and pushed the door open. This is the main room. BEHOLD!  
  
Marvin stepped forward cautiously. The huge cave was filled with bookshelves, filing cabinets, stacks of old scrolls, mountains of paper, and some stalactites. Faint light was provided by hundreds of tiny oil lamps, each smoldering in its own nook. A tiny cloud of smoke hovered near the ceiling. Marvin coughed. Everything was covered in dust, and there were ominous sounds of water dripping. Three ancient desks were situated in the center, two of which were empty.  
  
The third was occupied by the oldest woman Marvin had ever seen, including the time he went to ask Onin if there was anything he could offer the stars so they would stop jinxing his life. Her white hair stuck out in all directions. Her ears were droopy with age. She wore black, and, sunk into her black chair with black cushioning, was therefore of indeterminate height. She glanced up, dull beady eyes entombed in purple bags and canyons of wrinkles, dipped a ragged quill into an inkwell, and continued working.  
  
called Cracky. The old woman sucked her jowls in in irritation. We got a new person today! His name is, uh, she turned to Marvin, what's your name?  
  
  
  
Marvin! That's right. I knew that. Really, I did. Cracky pointed to the old woman. That's what I call Skeletor. I don't know if she has a name-  
  
It's Agnes.  
  
-and I doubt she remembers it, if she does-  
  
It's Agnes!  
  
-she _is_ a tad bit old, you know. But I call her Skeletor, because-  
  
My name is Agnes you Sicklian dirtchime!  
  
-no one knows her real name.  
  
Skeletor/Agnes shot Marvin a look that can be approximated in words approximately thus: if you call me Skeletor, refer to me as Skeletor, say the word Skeletor aloud anywhere in this Department, outside, in your home, or _think_ the word Skeletor, even on personal time, I will eat you.  
  
_Don't think Skeletor,'_ thought Marvin.  
  
Agnes shot him a look that could rip the hide off a yakkow.  
  
So what's the new news, Skelly? Cracky propped her elbows up on Agnes' desk and peered around. She sniffed, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and screamed. My brains're leaking again!  
  
Agnes scoffed deeply, which made her paunchy face wiggle in a most unbecoming manner.  
  
Marvin blinked. He held his briefcase timidly, glancing around.  
  
Do you understand Tedious Geometry? wheezed Agnes. She thumped her chest a few times and coughed.  
  
  
  
Are you competent in the higher levels of Monotonous Trig?  
  
Marvin nodded meekly.  
  
How's your Hyperdreary Calculus?  
  
  
  
Agnes blinked slowly. I guess you'll have to do. Your desk, she turned, her spine creaking, is here, on my right. She pointed one shaking finger, then withdrew her arm. You'll start with a complete overhaul of the Main Scores Catalogue. It should keep you busy for a fortnight or two. She retreated into her black chair and refused to speak again for the rest of the day.  
  
Cracky grabbed Marvin's wrist and tugged him over. So, yeah, as Skelly said, this is your desk. What's-his-name left his note in the upper right hand drawer, which was very convenient for me, so when you write yours, put it there, she pointed helpfully. And don't bother locking it. I have all the keys. She grinned and pulled a huge key ring, which might have doubled as a warp gate in a previous life, from her dress. This one is for the tunnels, this one is for your desk, this one is for my desk, this one is for Skeletor's desk, this one is for-  
  
Marvin groaned and sank into his chair. It groaned and sank into the floor.  
  
he shot his arms out to balance.  
  
-the bathroom, this one is for- are you paying attention? Cracky looked down at him. Oh, don't worry. That's a pneumonia chair.  
  
You mean   
  
Yeah. Pneumonia.  
  
I didn't know pneumatic chairs sank this low.  
  
Cracky looked at him sadly. You don't know very much, do you?  
  
Agnes rapped the top of her desk with her knuckles and glared at them both.  
  
Oops. Skelly's right, we should get back to work. Cracky shoved the giant key ring into her pocket, where it bulged hideously.  
  
Um. What is it that you do? asked Marvin.  
  
Cracky grinned. The teeth that faced right reflected blue in the lamp light, and the teeth facing left were red. The rest of the tangled dentary mess was gray. I organize the Meaning of Sports. You're in charge of Scores, Fine Distance Calculations, Trophy and Award History, you know, that kind of thing.  
  
The Meaning of Sports?  
  
Sure. I specialize in all the different sports; the rules, the official rules, the regional rule variations, rule interpretation... she trailed off and muttered something about a twine ball. Better get to work, Marvin-Barvin! She hopped over to her desk on one foot and pulled a gigantic tome from her desk. Humming irritatingly, she pulled a pencil nub from her ear, studied the pages, and made notes.  
  
said Marvin. _I wonder what AGNES,_ he thought deliberately, trying very hard not to think of the old woman's nick name, _does around here._ He risked a glance up at her. She frowned and flicked a piece of paper at him. It fluttered gently down to his desk.  
  
In shaky cursive it read; **Get to work, you. Notes in drawers. Re-organize Main Scores Catalogue as see fit. Be neat!**  
  
Marvin pushed the paper aside and bit his lip as he got another paper cut, right through his earlier one. He scowled at the red X on his finger and opened the drawers.  
  
The unfortunate, previous occupant of the desk had left an interesting series of notes. They started out clear and concise. After a few weeks, as shown by the dates, the numbers started to wobble in their charts. Things continued badly towards the bottom of the pile, where the jagged lines of script were surrounded by sketches of nooses and skull-and-crossbones.  
  
The back of the last piece of paper was a rough draft for the note Cracky had tucked into her pocket.  
  
Marvin shuddered and, in one motion, piled the papers, stapled them multiple times so they would never get loose and cause havoc, sustained another paper cut, and threw them away.  
  
Best to start anew.  
  
Marvin took a deep breath.  
  
Cracky smiled an encouraging smile. Marvin grimaced.  
  
Before he could ask himself where to begin, a long buzzer sounded. He jumped in his seat.  
  
SIESTA TIME! Cracky did a cartwheel over her desk and fled the cave.  
  
Agnes put her quill down, tilted her head back, and began snoring.  
  
Marvin rose uncertainly, grabbed a tiny lantern, and ran for the stairs.  
  
**Lovepuff surmized that if I ever did a fic containing all my OCs together simultaneously, Thrinaxia would kill Cracky.  
Review, love, and happy cookies. :D**


	4. The Seach Fo Destiny

**Wow! I haven't updated this in four months. Thanks to the following linklies: dOMITUPSYK, Krimzon 1, miss Yunie, ShadowQueen Lizz, Snowy Fox, Lovepuff, and Lenipez sideshow.  
****Poor Marvin. All this in just one day.**

The elderly technician was from the part of the Slums that dependably refused to pronounce the letter R, and on occasion, claimed it had never existed. Marvin groaned. It was difficult to understand these types.

"How do I know youe eally the guy who ented he?" The man looked at Marvin sideways. "Do you have you signed contact ageement?"

Marvin thought back to his briefcase, on his desk, in the bowels of the BOTAFEA, where the carbon copy unpleasantly proclaiming the renter of the vehicle as "MaRlump" lay. He sighed. "Not with me."

"What's you name, son?"

"Marvin."

The man stuck out his hand, accidentally hitting Marvin in the leg with his walking stick. "Nice to meet you, Mavin. I'm Obet."

"Robert?"

"No, Obet." The man frowned deeply. "Hmmm..." he rubbed his chin for a while.

In the delayed silence, Marvin hopped up and down anxiously, trying like hell to remember where Destiny might have gone. After running up the dank staircase to the Tax Archives level, he'd headed straight for the lower parking lots. Destiny wasn't there. He'd checked three times, running between rows of zoomers and screaming his head off. Finally, he'd stuck a coin in the cheap paycomm and called Rent-A-Zoomer, requesting a technician.

"What for?" the secretary had asked.

_Gee, I can't find my ass-expensive zoomer. _"Ummmmmmmmmm... just got a question," said Marvin.

She sighed. "There's an instruction manual."

"I, uh, can't read," stammered Marvin.

"Pity." She clearly didn't think it was. "We'll send a technician out to your location."

Marvin had waited tensely, then sat down worriedly, then started his hopping up and down anxiously. Obet had arrived just a few minutes later.

_Let's see. I got to work, got demoted, met a PreCC addict and the oldest known Havenite alive._ He frowned. The tiny lamp he still held dripped oil down his pants as he jumped. _Not far enough. Think back. Destiny dropped me off, and I told her to..._ "park yourself where no one will find you!" Marvin's eyes widened and he gasped.

"Oh, eh?" Obet looked up at him. "You didn't say that, did you? That's the wost possible thing to say to a zoome. Especially the Class twenty. Theye teibly loyal." He sighed and pulled a flat screen from his technician's bag. "Let's see what he fuss is all about." He twiddled with the controls for a minute, then arched his eyebrows. "Ah ha!"

"Did you find her?"

"Nope. But I did save a ton of obs on my zoome insuance." He hummed a little-known ditty about Mar's crocodog Yarg-the-Mildewy. Or, in his case, Ma's cocodog Yag-the-Mildewy. But it was a little-known ditty, and Marvin did not derive any pleasure from its hummed bars.

He fumed.

"What are you doing?"

"Scanning fo he Egional Indeect Locato."

"What?" Marvin couldn't quite grasp the series of sounds that had just assaulted his ears.

"He egional Indeect Locato. The locato device in he steeing column cente. It'll say whee she's paked."

"Oh, her _Indirect Locator._"

"That's what I said!" The technician scowled at him. "Fesh whippesnappe. Don't you get me stated. I fought in the last fou was against those Metal Heads to keep undeseving youngins like you unhamed…"

Marvin rolled his eyes and glanced at his wristwatch, waiting for the old man's spiel to end.

"Ae you awae that youe on fie?"

"What?" Marvin looked up.

"Youe on fie!" Obet pointed at Marvin's waist.

Marvin looked down. It took a few seconds for the flames and burning-flesh smell to completely register in his brain. "I'm on fire! Obet, help!"

"I'm a technician, not a fieman," he said, shrugging.

Marvin threw himself to the ground and rolled in the dust, screaming.

Obet calmly tapped codes into his flat screen. "Oo! I found he appoximate location."

"AHHHHHH!"

"She's somewhee in the Pot." Obet prodded him with the walking stick.

"MY LEG HAIRS MELTED TOGETHER!"

"Pobably hiding undewate. Not a place I'd eccomend."

"Other than that, I'm fine…"

"The Class twenty ain't exactly watepoof."

Marvin stood and slowly peeled his pants away from his skin. Due to the disturbing regularity of this kind of occurrence, he had quickly grown accustomed to pain. And not the regular 'I nicked myself shaving' kind of pain. This was pure 'the Precursors hate me and make my life a living exhibit in the painful gallery of the Life Museum Display of Pain' kind of pain. Marvin couldn't remember the last time he had nicked himself shaving. It was never just a nick, rather an open wound… he shook his head.

"So… where's Destiny?"

"In the Pot."

"The Port?"

Obet glared. "Yes! The Pot."

Marvin groaned. "How do I get her out?"

"Offe he a pesent." Obet packed up his flat screen. "Give he something eal petty. Class twenty thinks theye oyalty. Well, in a sense, they ae. Theye the best ou eseaches and develepes can make, in this day and age. When I was a young spout, manufactuing had just eached the climax of its enowned cuent status. Hee I go again, pining fo the old ways… Class twenty eally loves ed oses. Those ae expensive, though, so I wouldn't blame you fo not spluging on that paticula expenditue. I pesume you could seenade he with a song. Needs to be ight fancy, though. Class twenty takes odes seiously and neve shiks thei duties. You'll have to wok eal had to pesuad he out of he secet hole."

"What?"

Obet smacked him with the walking stick. "Bye, Mavin. Good luck!" He hobbled away and ducked into a bar.

"Thanks fo all you help," muttered Marvin, rubbing his shoulder. He glanced at his watch again. He had fifteen more minutes until the break was up. The Port was on the opposite end of the city. He'd need a zoomer to get there.

And a zoomer was exactly what he didn't have.

Fourteen minutes.

Marvin ran for the Stadium, wildly thinking that perhaps Cracky could give him a ride to the Port. In his frantic sprint, he completely missed the yellow and red warning tape, along with the fifteen cones and strobe lights around the open sewer hole, and fell.

"Aahhh!" He flailed in the dark, searching for something to grab hold of. The stench was overwhelming. He landed in a fast moving current of sludge and, quite probably, worse. Marvin flipped over and over in the frigid mess, struggling for the surface. Two waterfalls, an epic battle with sewer rats, and a flushing whirlpool later, the drainage system spat him out into slightly cleaner waters.

"Ugh…" Marvin shivered and wiped his face free of oily goo. A cruel-looking yellow fish with a tattoo on its forehead reading "Hook Me If You Dare" eyed him. Marvin hastily pulled himself up a ramp and collapsed on the sidewalk. A few women kicked him in horror and ran away screaming. Pink lights flickered from above, and he looked up.

The Hip Hog Saloon.

"Marvelous," muttered Marvin. "I could use a drink." He pulled his now slightly-brownish thirty three shades of pink shirt free of wrinkles and entered.

"That wasn't me," came a voice. "Did the toilet clog again, eh?"

A pretty barmaid wrinkled her nose as Marvin entered. A disgustingly disturbingly fat man sat in the boxing ring in the middle of the room, sniffing the air.

"Oh, it was you," he said, jiggling.

Marvin edged around the fat man, jumped onto a barstool, slid off, hit the floor with a splat, got up, and ordered a double Sicklian Brainblaster. He spilled the drink twice in his lap before giving up and eating some nuts instead. The shells stuck in his throat.

"Mr Krew, you're damaging my front shock absorbers," came a familiar voice.

Marvin turned around. "Destiny!" The poor zoomer was enveloped in the fat man's rolls, her back propellers barely peeking out from between his gigantic asscheeks.

"She's a darling thing," said Krew. "Much more comfortable than that blasted chair," he wiggled his butt affectionately and pointed to the corner, where an Obesity Hovercart sat dejectedly.

Destiny's equilibrium stabilizers whined and strained.

"She's mine!" Marvin ran to the boxing ring.

"Eh eh," scolded the fat man. "I found her in the Port. Abandoned objects belong to whoever finds them."

"She wasn't abandoned! She was ordered to hide!" Marvin shook one fist at him. "Give her back!"

"Or what?" Krew laughed, sending ripples, nay, _tsunamis_ of collagen up and down the length of his body. Destiny whimpered.

"Or… or…" Marvin wracked his brain. "Or Rent-A-Zoomer will hunt you down! Destiny's rented in my name. If her fees aren't paid on time, they'll come to me, but I'll tell them that you stole her!"

Krew's face turned an angry red. "Hrm! I know well the temperaments of those damn Rent-A-Zoomer bureaucrats… lost two of my good men to their fee collectors…"

"See? So keeping her isn't worth it. Give her back. I bet you couldn't even pay her renting fees," said Marvin.

"Bet, eh?" Krew smiled. Marvin didn't like that smile. It reminded him of previous times when He Should've Thought More About What He Was Going To Say Before He Said It. "Some would call me a betting man. Why don't we have ourselves a little challenge, eh? If you can beat me in a wrestling match, you can have her." His cheeks rolled like a hurricane-beaten sea as he laughed.

The pretty barmaid gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"And if I lose?" asked Marvin, as a baby ulcer opened its metaphorical eyes for the first time and began chewing its way through his stomach.

"You tell Rent-A-Zoomer you want to buy her," Krew patted Destiny's dashboard, a stalactite of drool hanging from his many chins, "finish the monthly installment fees, and hand the owner's certificate over to me."

Marvin gulped.

"And if you fail to carry through on your end of the bargain," Krew continued, "you can kiss your cute pink tulip button wearing days goodbye."

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****For more information about Mar's crocodog Yarg-the-Mildewy, read "Shnorky's Story."**


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